


Fancy Pants

by coprime



Category: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movies)
Genre: Dogs, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coprime/pseuds/coprime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What he didn't expect, and he really didn't see how he could have anticipated this one, was to have a small, white dog wearing a pink ballerina shirt and tutu shoved into his arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fancy Pants

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lady Koori

Whenever someone stormed into his office with that particular look on their face, Donald expected to get punched. Mrs. Valencia, or the soon-to-be-former Mrs. Valencia because her husband was now in the process of divorcing her, stalked right up to him and shook her fist in his face.

"It's your fault he's leaving me," she cried, "so you can take care of Fancy Pants!"

What he didn't expect, and he really didn't see how he could have anticipated this one, was to have a small, white dog wearing a pink ballerina shirt and tutu shoved into his arms. There was even a little, jaunty bow in the dog's hair, and the shirt had glittery flowers on it.

Donald struggled to not drop Fancy Pants as he called out for Mrs. Valencia, who was storming out of his office just as dramatically as she'd stormed in, to wait. She flipped him off and disappeared into the stairwell. Which left Donald holding a -- he checked quickly -- male dog that, while cute, hadn't been a part of his plan for the day. Donald spotted a duffel bag left just outside his door, so he put down Fancy Pants to check it. There were a few dog toys as well as six cans of food, but mostly it was full of doggie clothes, nearly all of which were doggie dresses.

Right then. He needed to return Mrs. Valencia's dog to her as soon as possible.

* * *

When Donald came home to the apartment he and Timmy shared, Fancy Pants was still in his possession, although he was now sans ballerina outfit.

Timmy was in the kitchen cooking dinner, but once he spotted Fancy trailing behind Donald, his welcome home smile was replaced by a rather confused one. "Who's that?" he asked.

"Fancy Pants. Or just Fancy." Donald joined Timmy and got out a plastic plate to put Fancy's dinner on. "A client's spouse gave him to me and is now refusing to take him back."

"Oh?" Timmy looked so cute that Donald leaned over to steal a kiss, and after Timmy settled his free arm around Donald's waist, keeping him close. Timmy mused, "It might be nice to have a dog. He seems well-behaved."

They took a moment to watch Fancy daintily eat his food, but Donald sighed. "He doesn't belong to us, sweetheart. I'm going to try giving him to one of the Valencias -- I don't care which one -- again tomorrow, and if they still refuse, I'll take him to a shelter."

Timmy pulled away in order to bring dinner to their small dining table. He teased, "Do I have to ask if you were your usual charming self when trying to give Fancy back?"

Donald feigned offense as he sat down. "I'll have you know I was as charming as I know how to be."

"Which is to say, not very," Timmy quipped. "If you want, tomorrow's going to be a slower day at work and I could talk to the Valencias for you."

"Really?" Donald watched Timmy pet Fancy absently. "You don't mind?"

"No. He really is a nice dog though."

Donald suppressed a sigh. Maybe Timmy wold be able to shove Fancy back onto the Valencias before he became too attached.

* * *

The next afternoon, while waiting for the man he was trailing to emerge from the spa he'd entered fifteen minutes ago, Donald decided to call Timmy and see whether Fancy was back in the hands of his rightful owners.

When he finally got Timmy on the phone, he said, "Hey, honey, how are you?" and smiled even though Timmy couldn't see him.

"All right. I talked to Mr. Valencia." In the background, Donald could hear Fancy Pants yipping and Timmy shushing him.

"So you should be dogless when you get home tonight?"

"Not...exactly."

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?"

"He agreed to bring over the papers we'd need to transfer Fancy's license."

Donald felt his smile slipping and tried to keep his tone of voice light. "Darling, we talked about this. He's not ours to keep."

Timmy sighed over the line, and Donald told himself to stay strong. "Even if the Valencias don't want him back," Donald reasoned, "our apartment's too tiny for a dog, and there's nowhere outdoors for him to play."

"So what?" Timmy sounded wry. "It's up to us now to find Fancy an owner?"

"Yeah, I guess." Donald spotted his man exiting the spa from a side door. "Work calls, gotta go, love you."

Donald waited to hear Timmy's echoing "love you too" before pocketing his phone and getting back to tailing. He could worry about finding an owner for Fancy in a bit.

* * *

Donald had quickly realized that if he wanted Fancy Pants to have a new owner, one that was not him or Timmy, then it was up to him to find said new owner. Because every time he mentioned Timmy helping in his search, Timmy replied that he was too busy to ask around and, really, Fancy seemed perfectly happy with them, so there wasn't any rush.

And every time he felt himself wavering in the face of Timmy's placid bullheadedness, he reminded himself of the duffel bag filled with doggie dresses in his closet and that the dog's name was Fancy Pants. Mister Fancy Pants even, which he'd discovered when he'd looked at the dog license registration form. It wasn't that he didn't want a dog necessarily, he just didn't want _this_ dog, even if he was fun and sweet.

They were clearing away dinner, with Fancy neatly eating his food under the table, when Timmy said, "We should rename him," apropos of nothing that Donald could see.

"What?" Donald reached down to ruffle Fancy's fur when he spied the shiny, new dog bowl that Fancy was eating out of. He eyed it speculatively. He realized that he wasn't ever going to be able to convince Timmy to give Fancy to someone else, not when Timmy had already gone shopping for him. And he did like Fancy, just not the name which Timmy wanted to change anyway.

"Well," Timmy continued, oblivious to Donald's epiphany, "given how the Valencias didn't want to keep him, I don't see why we can't rename him something less...cutesy."

Donald sighed and decided to try, for form's sake, one last attempt at his original plan. "Honey, we can't rename Fancy Pants because we're not keeping him either."

"By the way, how _is_ your search for a new owner going? Still no luck?"

Donald mentally threw in the towel. "I think," he said carefully, "that I'm going to quit looking."

"Really? You're okay with keeping Fancy then?" Timmy sounded surprised as he picked up Fancy, who had finished eating, and that surprised Donald.

"Yes. Although we have to come up with new name for Mister Fancy Pants, and I'm getting rid of all his clothes."

"Huh," Timmy said. "I wasn't expecting you to cave until next week at the earliest."

At that, Donald laughed. He reached over to tweak Timmy's nose and said, "I guess you underestimated just how bad I am at saying no to you."

Timmy grinned and pulled Donald in for a short but affectionate kiss, Fancy still in Timmy's arms.

"Since it was your detecting skill that got us Fancy," Timmy said, pleased as punch now that he'd gotten his own way, "I was thinking we should name him after a famous detective. Sherlock maybe?"

Donald considered it. Eventually, he said, "No, too obvious. Besides--" Donald leaned in close, and Fancy gave him his own slightly messy kisses. "--this dog here is clearly my trusty companion, helping me sniff out clues and figure out who the bad guy is."

"Oh, like Dr. Watson."

The newly christened Dr. Watson gave Timmy kisses along his jaw in confirmation.


End file.
